Brandon made me feel like a woman. I loved sleeping with him, but the truth was I didn’t deserve him. He needed a woman who was his equal. He was the type of person who knew how to forgive. I was incapable of it. He just didn’t need a monster in his life, and I was exactly that. Unfortunately, there was one thing lingering between us. There was a chance I could be pregnant. I tried not to think about it, but not doing so won’t change the chances. I hated not knowing for sure. I know Brandon would make an excellent father, but this fact was not enough for me to stick around. If I was pregnant, then so be it. I’ll raise it on my own if I have to. Perhaps, it’s a blessing in disguise, a reason to come back to Wisp one day.
Evanna was a real kind of girl, almost reminded me of Tanie. If there was more time, I believed we could become the best of friends. She was loyal and smart, and having a friend like that was hard to come by. It was a shame I wasn’t going to see her again.
I caught the next shuttle bus right before it pulled off. I took the only open seat behind the driver. My heart began to ache the further away I got from Wisp. When I left Colum, I remember feeling happy. I was getting away from that hole. Now, that I’m leaving Wisp, my feelings were totally different. I was sad, actually in tears. It was for the best. I killed Dillon and buried Clark. I wasn’t about to stay for the after party.
CHAPTER TWO
Lawrence Clark’s truck was behind the abandoned building right where I left it. I was going to drive it to Raleigh in order to protect Ms. Emma and then go to the bus station to get out of town. This would take away any suspicion the police might have on her and focus it on someone else. They might think I had something to do with Clark’s murder, but I wasn’t too worried about it. They would have to prove I took the truck, prove I buried him in the back yard, and prove I shot him. Well, they could prove I shot him. I had his gun, but my ultimate goal was to make sure Ms. Emma didn’t get blamed for the murder.
As for his body, I didn’t think that was ever going to be a problem. Nobody was digging that deep in her flower bed unless she told the police where to find him. I had a feeling Ms. Emma wasn’t going to tell the police anything. She was glad to be rid of him. She was living again, and she knew her freedom was on the line if she told the police about her murdered husband.
Clark’s truck was exactly how I left it. I pushed the front seat forward and searched his toolbox. I found a faded green handle screwdriver and took off the license plate. I closed the truck, and I started for the mall.
When I got there, I stood in the parking lot. I was looking for a specific kind of truck. It had to look exactly like Clark’s truck, but it didn’t have to be the same make or model. It took a good fifteen minutes before I walked up on one. I had to be careful. I looked around making sure no one drove by or walked through. Hurriedly, I took off the back plate. It was facing outward. So, that meant someone could easily see what I was doing. I worked real quickly to replace it with Clark’s plate. My heart was pounding hard in my chest when I was making the swap, but I got it done without being seen.
When I returned back to the truck, I put on the stolen plate. I cleaned it out entirely and tossed everything into the nearest dumpster. Then, I drove to a gas station and filled it up. When I went to pay for gas, I bought snacks, drinks, a map, and a long strap purse. That gas station was big, and they sold all kinds of things for a trip, everything from matches to sewing kits and more. Once I was back in the truck, I put my gun, cash, and identification in my new purse. Everything fit perfectly, and I was soon on the highway, trying to get as much distance between me and Threshold as possible.
I was counting on whoever I swapped the plates with not noticing the difference. Usually, people don’t pay attention to their license plate, especially if there’s just one and it’s not a vanity plate. I’ll be long gone if they discover it or if the police pull them over looking for Clark.
I was nervous. I gripped the steering wheel so hard to the point where my knuckles hurt. Maybe, my paranoia was for nothing, but still I couldn’t shake it. I had the truck of a dead man. There was no turning back. This was for Ms. Emma. I was going to follow through with my plan and hoped not to get the attention of the authorities.
CHAPTER THREE
It was still daylight when I arrived in Raleigh, but the sun was fading fast. I got off the first highway exit, hoping to find another empty building where I could leave the truck, and I was really hoping to find one within walking distance of the bus station. The map I bought noted where one was located on Rock Quarry Road, but I couldn’t find it at first. After making a couple of U-turns a mile or so apart, I spotted the faded bus sign hanging outside what looked like a tin rippled building, right next door to a paint store. Now, that I knew where the bus station was, I drove west and eventually found a vacant strip mall. It was two miles up the road.
I turned into the weed ridden parking lot. The building was all boarded up, and the roof was collapsed in a few spots. Some of the signs were barely attached, hanging on at a single corner. I drove around to the back and saw that the parking lot was blocked in the middle by a rusty dumpster, and the entire area was laden with garbage, cardboards, and remnants of food. A tall man-made mound of dirt and grass separated the strip mall from a brand new neighborhood. The place made my skin crawl, but it was a perfect spot to leave the truck.
I breathed a sigh of relief after I parked. I was almost done with this thing. I threw my purse strap across my upper body and got out. I stretched and yawned feeling really tired. I went to the back bumper, and took off the license plate. I planned on tossing it in the dumpster since I couldn’t destroy it.
When I stood up and turned around, I was face to face with three guys. Instantly, I dropped the plate and the screwdriver on the ground. The sound echoed throughout the back lot. They eyeballed me from head to toe. The one in the middle had a big nose that seemed to take up most of his face. There was a guy with an afro on his right side, and the third guy on the left had dreadlocks. Afro started walking towards the driver’s side of the truck. He checked the bed, and when he reached the driver’s side, he put his hands up to the window to get a better look inside. He moved to the front of the truck, and I turned back to the other guys. Dreadlocks had a wicked smile, and Big Nose had a nasty stare. None of them said a word. I wished I had of hung on to that damn screwdriver. I was too scared to reach down for it. They might take it and use it against me. Either way, I was in big trouble.
After Afro completely rounded the truck, he pushed Big Nose out of the way. Big Nose cursed at him, and Afro pointed in his face with raised eyebrows. Big Nose stepped back, letting go of his spot even more. Afro put his attention square on me, and he leaned in with his right hand resting against the back gate.
None of those guys were dirty or nasty like they were homeless, but their clothes were somewhat ragged. They all had jeans that hung off their butts, and cigarette burned shirts but they were clean. The obvious leader, Afro, had huge muscles, and tattoos on both arms and the side of his neck.
“What you doing here?” Afro asked.
I glanced at both of his friends quickly and returned my eyes to him. I tried to act like I wasn’t afraid, but my trembling indicated otherwise.
“This your truck,” he asked as he stepped closer to me. I couldn’t back up. The bumper was right on the back of my legs.
“No,” I whispered.
Afro stared me down, leaned even closer, and then he started sniffing my left cheek. This mutherfucker was crazy, and I knew I better think of a way out of this situation fast.
“You smell good, girl.” He said as he grabbed my hand.
I snatched away from him and pushed against his chest. This whole thing reminded me of the time I was in Colum. I was on my way home after leaving Tanie and Stephanie at the restaurant. Jason had grabbed me in the parking lot, hit me, and kicked me in the stomach while I was down. Some people stared at us, doing nothing. Others pulled him away. When I had the chance, I ran straight for
my apartment. He’d hurt me so bad that day, and I was scared to death. Now, here I was in another parking lot, in another town, and I was about to face three men who had no intention of leaving me alone. I was obviously worse off now than I was back then. There was no doubt my life was at stake.
They laughed at my weak attempt to defend myself. I tried to move away, but Afro trapped me with his arms and body against the truck. I tried to shove him back, but he kept his position. They laughed more, and then before I even realized it, Afro slapped me. The jabbing sting was excruciating, and just when I brought my hand to my face to protect myself, he hit me with his fist sending me to the ground. There was scuffling and yelling, but Afro’s voice rung high over all of them.
I was snatched back to my feet. He wrapped his arm around my neck and dragged me across the short span of the parking lot and into one of the empty stores. I tried to fight back, but he threw me across the room like I weighed nothing. I landed hard on my stomach. I was so winded and hurt that I couldn’t get back up. Afro pulled me towards him by my ankles, causing scratches on any uncovered parts of my body, including the right side of my face. I screamed and cried for help, but it only bounced within the confines of the store.
He flipped me over and back handed me. I shook as I tried to cover my face. I felt my pants and shirt being ripped right from my body. I tried to stop him, but he overpowered me. He leaned down on me, using his arm against my neck. I fought for a breath, tried to push him away. I thought for sure he would snap my neck, but he wasn’t using all of his weight. I still tried so hard to get him off of me, but he was too heavy and too strong.
Afro made a point to look me in the eyes, and that’s when I felt him grabbing himself and pulling himself out. NO! I couldn’t let him have me! This was my body! This was my soul! I fought, screamed, squirmed, and cried.
He yelled, “Hold fucking still, bitch! I’ll break your fucking neck!”
Afro pushed hard in me, and I screamed in agony. He lifted himself up, and I thought he was going to stop. But he punched me in the face instead. He took the wind right out of me with that one single blow, and I lost the will to fight. Both of my hands fell to the side, but my right hand landed on my purse. There was hope after all. The purse was half way open, and I began feeling inside for my gun. I found it! The steel was in my hands!
He continued his assault, pushing hard and fast as he could. He didn’t notice or feel what I was doing with my hand. I tried to maneuver the gun out of my purse with a sly slow motion, but I couldn’t get it out. So, I aimed right into his body through the purse, closed my eyes, and fired twice. I screamed hearing the loud noise. His body shook violently, and he looked at me in complete shock. He managed to stand with his pants to his knees. I scrambled away and watched him stagger backwards. He fell hard to the ground with a thud that took the wind out of him. He stopped moving. I aimed the gun at the door thinking his friends were going to get me. Instead, I heard tires burning rubber on the asphalt. I stumbled over to the door. They were gone with the truck. Cowards!
Now, I was fucking pissed! I went back to Afro and kicked that mutherfucker right in the head. I damn near broke my foot when I did. I cussed and spit on him. Fucker!
I tried to catch my breath and still my emotions to keep from completely collapsing. I thought for a moment. I couldn’t just stay there, but I was in no shape to even go outside. My clothes were all torn up and falling off my body; even my underwear was in bad shape.
I looked around the old store and saw that all three of those guys had been living there. There were three backpacks, blankets, food, and other stuff to live off of. I searched the backpacks and found their wallets, which I kept, and found clothes to wear. I put on a burgundy shirt and blue jean shorts. They were too big, but what the hell. At least, I could leave with clothes on my back. I even found money, and I took it all. I didn’t even bother to count it. It was rolled up and rubber banded together. I searched everything they had and took what I could use. I cleaned out my purse, and put the rest of my stuff in one of the backpacks.
I was still mad as hell. At least, I didn’t let that mutherfucker defeat me. I was alive! I made it! I went back over to Afro, who hadn’t moved since I shot him, and I gave him one last kick in the side. He didn’t respond.
“Go to hell, mutherfucker! Go straight to hell!” I yelled at him.
I put on the backpack and made sure it was comfortable. I gripped the gun ready to come out of that store blazing. I peeked out the entrance. His friends were gone. I glanced back at Afro one last time and cautiously exited.
I walked behind stores and through open back yards in the dark. My mind was spiraling from what I should have done, could have done. I regretted taking that stupid truck. I should have just caught the bus in Threshold. I had five hundred dollars that Brandon gave me, and I could have been long gone by now, probably out of the state. How could I have been so careless? So stupid! I was raped because I wasn’t thinking this whole thing through. I thought I was doing Ms. Emma a favor.
I just needed to get to the bus station and get the hell out of Raleigh. As long as I was there, I felt like my life was still in danger. Big Nose and Dreadlocks might be after me for killing their friend. They were cowards, anyway. I know they saw what he did. Then when Afro got shot, they ran. True cowards to the marrow of their bones, and I hope those fuckers get caught with Clark’s truck. I hope they get blamed for Clark’s disappearance and get buried under the fucking jail.
Finally, I arrived at the rundown bus station feeling absolutely tired, and before I went in, I hid the gun in my backpack. A young, white man was typing on a computer. I watched him not saying a word. Actually, I was thinking where I should go.
He asked with his eyes still on the computer screen, “Where would you like to travel today?”
I thought about where I could go. My father popped into my mind. I wanted to be with family again. He wasn’t exactly a prime choice, but there were no other options. I would go see Olivia, but I didn’t know how to find her. My father was it, my last chance to gain a family back.
I asked for the next bus going north to New Britain, Pennsylvania, and he began speaking the itinerary without looking at me. But when he did and saw my bruised and swollen face, he stopped in midsentence. He was shocked by my appearance.
I didn’t want to explain, and I wasn’t about to. I pleaded as the tears pooled in my eyes, “Please, sir, I need to buy that ticket.”
He swallowed, and then he started typing. He told me the amount. I took off the backpack and whimpered at the pain of stretching. I got my money out and paid him. He thanked me with a nod and printed the bus ticket. I didn’t put the backpack on again. It was just too painful. I planted myself in the most uncomfortable orange hard plastic chair in the world in the back of the bus station. Nonetheless, my nerves and stress level remained heightened. There were too many people walking around, and I was paranoid about Big Nose and Dreadlocks finding me.
The guy from the counter came over to me. He handed me gauze, ointment, soap, and a clean rag. He said with a worried gaze, “You don’t have to pay for this stuff. The bathroom is over there if you want to get cleaned up.”
I stared at him and then at the first aid items. My hands were shaking as I grabbed them. I said in a shaky voice, “Thank you.”
“Sure,” he remarked and returned back to his desk.
Honestly, I was so glad for that little bit of kindness. I cried as I slowly made my way into the bathroom. The mirror revealed a horror show. My face was black, blue, and bloody. My right arm had dried blood over the scratches and bruises. I cleaned up best I could. I wasn’t a hundred percent better afterwards, but at least, I was better.
When my bus number was announced over the crackling intercom system, I went towards the door. I thanked the white man one last time, and he nodded with a subtle smile. Thank God for strangers with big hearts like him.
I found a seat in the last row and settled in. Finally, I could rest a
nd not worry about Big Nose and Dreadlocks finding me. When I felt I was far enough away from Raleigh, I began to doze. The sleep hit me quick and hard, and I was gone to the world before I knew it.
CHAPTER FOUR
When the bus was approaching Washington DC, there were a couple of structures that I didn’t quite understand. There were three curved metal spikes going different directions in the air right before the DC line. Then there was some kind of white dome sticking above the tree line not too far up the highway. I recognized the Washington Monument from my school books. It was taller than I imagined. Washington DC didn’t have skyscrapers, but still I could tell there was a lot of life in this city.
The bus meandered through the busy streets slowly, and eventually, we stopped at the bus station where everyone got off. People started going in different directions. I sat down and waited for my next bus number to be called. I put the backpack on my lap and squeezed it close to my chest. I was concerned that someone would notice my bruised and scratched up face, and they’d see I was wearing men’s clothes. But I soon learned my concern was for nothing. Nobody paid any attention to me. There was a man, who looked like he hadn’t bathed in ten years, walking from one vending machine to another pushing buttons. He was hoping one of those machines would spit out a free snack. Anytime the machines buzzed asking for money, he’d turn around looking dazed and confused. Maybe, he was worse off than I was. I wasn’t about to compare notes.
Then there was a couple sitting together, and the woman looked pissed off. The guy was talking, and she was tuning him out. His hands kept moving, he’d shift back and forth in his seat, and then he’d get closer to her and asked if she heard him. The woman finally walked away, leaving out of the bus station. He wasn’t too far behind her. After those two were gone, it was much quieter, except for the occasional buzzing of the snack machine.
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